Penalties in the Locker Room: Complete Story

Penalties in the Locker Room

(Delinquent Cheerleader Confessions)

(if you are looking for a free ereader version, try Smashwords)

by Christie St Claire

“Please. I want it. Please let me have it.”

Despite the pathetic whimper in her voice, there was no way I could mistake the high-pitched tones of Brittany.

Here was a bitch that made my life hell all through High School and then had the nerve to follow me to university. I didn’t think her spite could reach so far. In High School, I’d be standing around minding my own business and she’d sneak up on me, grab my boobs, give them a good squeeze and then announce they were firm but still only an A cup. She was pretty spiteful.

Hearing her voice caused me to squirm uncomfortably. I could feel her hands all over my boobs all over again and remembered the endless injustices. I was in tenth grade and Tommy Stripewell had asked me out. I was feeling pretty good about myself, mostly because he was good with his hands. It was great. And then there was Brittany. Could she just secretly screw him behind my back? No. We were at spring formal getting on with some light petting on the dance floor. She comes out of nowhere, her rock-hard boobs pushed up to her chin, cuts in and starts making out with him right there. I protested, she pushed me over like it was kindergarten and then took him outside so he could blow her on the hood of my car. He blew her on my car.

The only reason I made it through High School was she took up cheerleading big time and ended up hanging around the gym. Then she gets a cheerleading scholarship to my university. Who ever heard of cheerleading scholarship in the first place?

I had no desire to know what she did in the gym in High School or at university. Why I was in the gym the night I heard her whimper, well, I was looking for something for the university newspaper. Exactly what I was looking for is another story.

Her whimpers were coming from the locker room, carried down the midnight corridors and echoing round the large empty hall. I hesitated before following them. I didn’t want to go into the locker room. It made sense that she was in there. She was bitch queen of our High School locker room, why wouldn’t she transfer her reign over to university?

For me, the locker room was a special place of humiliation. She would happily wander round in her bikini briefs and nothing else, giving everyone a good hard look at her boobs. They weren’t massive, just well rounded and heavy. I swear, if I didn’t know that she lived in a trailer park, I’d think she had a boob job. Maybe she had. Maybe her folks had sold their house to get her a boob job to start her on her career towards being a professional stripper. She would stand in the locker room chatting away, her boobs right in your face or she’d be across the room and you’d be looking at her tight ass. She’d always wear the same Victoria Secret panties that cut her right up the ass. Then she’d wander around and give the odd girl a slap on the ass.

Public humiliation is one thing, being humiliated by a well-endowed half naked bitch is two parts degrading, one part stimulating.

In the darkness of the gym, what gave me strength and thrust me onwards was the tone of those squeals pushed through that high-pitch little voice. They seemed to say, “it hurts, I don’t like it but I need more of it.” Whatever it turned out to be, I had to go look and I wasn’t disappointed. After hearing her initial pleadings, I heard a sound like a large pile of books being dropped on a table and then a moan.  The smacking sound rung out again and again. At first it made me jump and then I knew it was the sound of something flat and heavy resounding against ass cheeks. I thought I was ready.

What I saw next was just surreal. I don’t consider myself sheltered or anything. I knew this kind of thing happened, but to actually see it was a real eye opener. I mean, I’d watched porn and all. I’d seen some pretty strange stuff, but those are actors, they are getting paid to do that. This was real. This was two people doing the kind of shit you expect to find in porn and pulling out all the fucking stops.

The swinging door to the locker room looked heavy, noisy and inclined to drag across the floor. I peeped through the little window; it had the usual discretion wall. I got a sense of the rhythm of the smacking sound and quickly pushed through at the same time as one of those slaps rung around the gym accompanied by Brittany’s squeals. The smacking stopped. They had heard something. Would they investigate? It was barely a break in rhythm and the slaps started up again. But then I encountered a moment’s doubt. What if I was wrong? What if it wasn’t Brittany?

At first I didn’t see her. All I saw was the hour glass back of a woman over six feet tall in high heels. She was wearing the tightest corset I had ever seen. It was black leather with a shine of regular use and must have been made with iron rods. Her ass cheeks and shoulders puffed out heavily tanned skin at either end of the corset. It didn’t look like a fake tan; it looked like sunburn scorched into a violent tan. Her hair was a large weave of black cables twisted together like electrical wires. Her ass cheeks were held up by stocking attached to the bottom of her corset.

In her long gloved hands, the woman held a large wooden paddle. She shifted her weight, giving me her profile. She was in her forties with heavily applied make-up in dramatic reds and blacks as if she didn’t often use make-up. When I looked past her towards the benches I saw Brittany. She was dressed in a cheerleader’s outfit. It wasn’t her outfit. Well it might have been her outfit, but it wasn’t an outfit any squad would let their cheerleaders wear.

The tunic was barely holding her boobs. Even from the side I could see the pink and white material straining against her breasts, rounding them out and popping those nipples as hard as rocks. The skirt was the pleated style that you imagine cheerleaders wearing, but never actually wear. It was tightly secured around her waist and rolled up her back. Her bloomers were held firmly under her knees to reveal her naked ass.

What was most noticeable was the fact her wrists and ankles were bound together and as she knelt on the bench, a rope was lifting her arms above her head pulling her up to present her ass to the oncoming smacks of the woman’s paddle.

 I couldn’t help feel twinges of excitement as I watched a pink blush spread across her cheeks under the heavy slams of the paddle. And the woman in black kept going. Spank after spank, swing after swing. The pitch of Brittany’s screams increased as I watched mottled splotches of red appear under her skin. A Rorschach pattern of punishment grew across her ass cheeks and all I could see was joyful retribution. The woman in black seemed to see something as well. She paused for a moment. Brittany flinched as the woman smoothed her gloved hand round her ass and up towards her pussy.

“Well, lookie, lookie,” the woman said. “You are a wet little girl aren’t you? I like my girls wet.”

Brittany was breathing heavy, gulping in lungfuls of air and glad to have been given a break.

“Time for you to get a little wetter. Let me get you more comfortable,” the woman said untying Brittany’s hands. The weight of Brittany’s arms curled her down into a ball, her head resting on the bench and her ass sitting awkwardly on top of her pristine white gym shoes. As she remained curled in a ball, the woman fondled Brittany’s ass and pussy to which Brittany moaned appreciatively.

“Oh, that is nice, isn’t it?” the woman said. Brittany moaned approvingly in response. “Remember this. Remember how well I’ve been treating you because you are going to be doing something for me. Something very important. You need to make sure these little cheerleading bitches complete their journals. They need to complete those stupid little journals or we’re fucked.  I need you to be my bitch on the inside. I need you to make sure they are doing what they are supposed to do. You do that for me and I’ll make sure you get everything you want. Do you understand?”

“Yes mistress,” Brittany whimpered.

“Good. Now it’s your turn. I know how you like this and if you are good we can come back to that later.” The woman straddled Brittany and bent her legs slightly. I could see the woman’s excited wetness glistening between her legs as she lifted Brittany and placed her on the floor.

The cold floor revived Brittany and she sat up for a moment lifting her butt off the floor. The woman, standing with her crotch over Brittany’s head, took the rope attached to Brittany’s bound wrists, pulled it back through her legs and up to her shoulders. Holding the rope in front of her chest, her hands resting on her tanned boobs spilling out of her corset, the woman was able to hoist up Brittany’s hands onto her naked buttocks.

Spreading her legs in front of Brittany, the woman gave the rope a sharp tug and pulled Brittany’s face up into the woman’s crotch, Brittany’s arms were pulled up behind the woman.

“Come on now,” the woman said. “You can do better than that.” She relaxed her hold on the rope allowing Brittany to drop away from her crotch.

“Now,” the woman said. “Present your tongue.” Brittany was looking straight ahead into the woman’s pussy. Just past Brittany’s head, I could see the bushy pubic hair of the woman. It was black and groomed, but no landing strip. Instead it extended in a wide V from the dark folds of her pussy and ended with a natural line just below the bottom of her corset.

“That looks, good,” the woman said looking down at Brittany with her tongue exposed. “Stick it out further. A little further.” Brittany was straining her tongue, the very tip curling upwards.

“Let practice commence,” the woman said gently pulling the rope. Brittany didn’t wait to be pulled in and dived head first.

Brittany’s head moved up and down. I could imagine the upward strokes, her tongue tickling between the folds of the woman’s pussy, nudging forward and inward, licking up and down. Anything I imagined as I grew ever wetter was nothing compared to what the woman was feeling. She moaned and released long groans in response to Brittany’s upward motions.

I saw Brittany’s head push forward, her chin jutting upward as she lifted herself up, her knees pressing into the cold floor and her breasts heaving upward as she denied herself the luxury of breathing. The woman moaned and fragments of speech were released.

“Oh yes. Oh God. More, more. Deeper.”

Brittany pulled back and took a massive breath of air, her chest expanding painfully as she drew in as much oxygen as possible.

The woman’s face registered the surprise of confiscated pleasure and angrily pulled the rope while squatting down onto Brittany’s face. Brittany launched herself forward mixing enthusiasm with desperation. Her head pushed further and further upwards as the woman dropped lower and lower.

I could see the muscles in the woman’s legs twitching as her calves and thighs tightened under the looming arrival of her orgasm. She was speechless now. Her eyes wide open, her mouth a perfect circle. She grabbed the back of Brittany’s head, pulled the rope tighter, squatted down, her thighs tightening around Brittany’s head while she pushed her head into her pussy.

Brittany’s hands began slapping the back of the woman’s corset, tugging back on the rope as she descended into suffocation unable to release herself from the stifling hold of the woman’s crotch.

Brittany was like a wrestler in a painful hold with a malicious opponent, trying to tap out. Her muscles were stretched to their limits and she was denied the sweet release of surrender. Between the woman’s increasingly desperate need to come and Brittany’s desperate need for release, I was burning up, my hands between my legs, my fingers finding their way into pussy, my pussy aching to come. I knew I should help Brittany, save her from suffocation, but my own desire, built on her desperation, required immediate attention.

As I muffled my own cries of orgasm, the woman finally threw her head back and staggered to the side, releasing the rope and letting Brittany fall gagging for breath to the floor.

None of us moved much as all three of us attempted to recover. I had muffled the moans of my orgasm by biting into my arm. I looked down at the fluffy blonde hairs on my arm and there were two neat red semi-circles against my pale skin.

Holding herself upright against the locker room benches, the woman stood looking down at Brittany. She lay panting on the floor, dribble running from the corner of her mouth as she gasped hard to reclaim her breath. Her face glistened with the woman’s wetness. The fluorescent lights picking up the shine around her chin, neck and all the way up her nose to the top of her cheeks.

The light satin material of Brittany’s cheerleader outfit was crumbled and defiled. I could see the red burns on her wrists where the rope had chafed against her instinctive attempts to pull free. Around her ankles, the rope was cutting into her ankles, her elaborately frilly socks surrendering to the coarse ties. The insubstantial material of the outfit had been unable to contain her boobs. The nipple of one boob had freely spilt out while the other ballooned over the buttons that barely held the garment together. Her skirt was turned and shifted, the pleats creased beyond redemption, the material twisted up and under the waist band exposing her punished ass and the glistening wetness of her pussy.

The glimmer of Brittany’s desire was reflected back in a cruel sparkle in the woman’s eye. It was a look of desire and disgust mixed together to form a vicious yearning like a wolf’s craving for lamb. Honest but brutal. She wanted Brittany and everything she represented and hated her for it.

Stepping forward with more purpose than stability, the woman took two uncertain strides in her black stiletto heels towards Brittany before bending down and lifting her off the floor, placing her back on the locker room bench.

Brittany was still gasping for breath and if I was a better human being I would have gone in there and checked she was alright. But I’m not. For all Brittany’s physical discomfort, she was getting off on it and I was enjoying it too much for it to stop. I wanted to know what was going to happen next and nothing could have prepared me for it. I mean I should have expected it. It was logical in many ways, I suppose.

The woman in black grabbed Brittany’s hands, still tied together, and using the rope attached them to the coat hook.

Brittany was whimpering at this point. I couldn’t make out what she was saying, but it sounded like a request of exaggerated politeness forced out under duress, which didn’t make sense at first. Brittany wasn’t pleading, she was asking for something. Something I couldn’t hear because her request was so low and quiet like she was trying hard not to do something. The woman in black stepped back and folded her arms. She stood there for a minute just looking. Brittany held onto a low whine as she squirmed until her body beginning to shudder slightly.

“Ok,” the woman in black said finally and Brittany pissed herself.

Right there in the locker room, Brittany let loose a heavy jet of urine that gushed out of her.

The woman was clearly expecting it and managed to avoid getting covered. Instead, it spurted out and covered Brittany’s bound legs, the bench and the floor in a torrent of piss steaming with warm humility. Brittany let out a long and enjoyable moan of pleasure to which the woman responded with an unseen smile that quickly faded.

“You dirty little bitch you,” the woman shouted at her. I mean, she was angry.

The woman in black leant over to Brittany, brushing up against her dripping ass and legs and started talking to her. I missed exactly what they were saying, but the general gist was Brittany was going to do something for her and then there was something about the beating being only the beginning of the punishment and that she had something else in store. Brittany nodded in agreement and then smiled. Then the woman left, heading out to the storage room towards the back of the locker room.

Brittany was left hanging there, wrists and ankles tied together, her bloomers round her knees, her top pushed down under the force of her boobs. Piss was still dripping from her legs onto the floor. Her bloomers must have been heavy and piss must have been seeping into her socks.

A part of me was thinking it would have been a good moment to go and help her out. Part of me didn’t know whether she actually wanted to be helped out. Is it worse to regret not helping a person or to be told to fuck off because the person didn’t want to be helped? And then there was the part of me, a pretty big part of me that didn’t give a fuck whether she wanted to be helped or not and was really enjoying it.

When the woman came back a couple of minutes later, I was getting conscious of the fact that my panties were so wet, they were starting to get cold. So I slipped then off and tucked them in my pocket.

The woman was carrying a black duffle bag about the size of cabin luggage. She placed the bag in front of Brittany who lifted her head to look.

“You think your punishment was a few spanks? This is your punishment.” She pulled out what I first thought was a black softball training bat and I had thoughts of her beating Brittany with it. Now that would have been a step too far. Before I could make out what it was, she put it down in front of Brittany and reached back into the bag to pull out a system of straps and buckles. I am sitting there in a pile of sports equipment wondering what the hell was going on as the woman stepped into the straps and pulled them up around her waist. She then took great pleasure in pulling the straps and buckles tight, shifting left and right, squatting slightly and twisting in delight.

Unfortunately, she turned her back to me at that moment. I could tell she had picked up the black thing and was doing something with it, but I had no idea what she was doing until she turned to reveal a large black dildo attached to her crotch.

Now that was something I hadn’t seen in a porno. The thing was huge. Strapped on her, hanging loosely attached, the thing hung down to her knees and was as thick as my arm.

She moved towards Brittany and gave the straps a tug forcing the huge black dildo erect. Then she grabbed Brittany by the hair and lifted her head up.

“Go on,” she said. “Suck it.”

I was starting to feel sorry for Brittany. She was having trouble keeping her head up as it was. When faced with that dildo, all she could fit in her mouth was the head.

“Pathetic,” the woman said looking down at her. “Let’s see how much of this that tight little cunt of yours can take.” She took a bottle of lube out of the bag. I felt a little relief on Brittany’s behalf as the woman started rubbing the huge cock with the lube. She rubbed that thing up and down and as she gripped it with two hands and barely covered a third of it, I started to realise just how big it was. The woman must have been pressing the straps into herself because she was starting to moan and seemed a little distracted for a minute.

She stopped, her hands still covered in lube, gave Brittany’s ass a slap and then started to line the dildo up to Brittany’s pussy. She crouched down slightly, bending her legs wide as she held the base of the dildo and eased it into Brittany.

Brittany gave a thrilled yelp of surprise. That thing was stretching her out, easing inside and filling her up. The woman got maybe a third of it in there and then she started pulling back before pushing herself forward into Brittany.

“Is that all you can take, you dirty little bitch? You’ll take a lot more than that.” The woman thrust forward. By steadying the base of the dildo against herself, the woman managed to drive that thing forward and into Brittany. Every thrust shoved Brittany forward, her knees scraping across the wooden bench.

I hate to say it, but this woman fucking Brittany with a massive black cock was burning me up. I was dripping again, my fingers in and around my pussy.

The movements of the woman were becoming increasingly frantic. Her drives forward were less assured as she began to misjudge the forward motion of the dildo. The misdirected thrust caught Brittany by surprise and she looked back with a hint of disgust. Holding the dildo with both hands, the woman managed to work back up to a rhythm and she began to pound against Brittany’s pussy, both of them were heading towards orgasm as the woman pounded forward and Brittany found the energy to lean back into the woman’s thrust.

Brittany began lifting herself up, higher and higher as orgasm began rippling through her. The woman was thrusting with increased desperation, chasing her orgasm with weakening resolve. Anxious lunges forward began to pay off as the woman’s legs started twitching, the weight of her orgasm became too much for her as she shouted exaltations of delight and release before pulling out and slumping down on a bench.

Brittany was hanging by the rope attached to her wrist, no longer able to support her weight, breathing heavy. Even I was exhausted and I was just watching.

The woman rose uncomfortably, her stiletto heels had become like unstable lead blocks attached to her feet. She staggered a couple of steps forward, the massive cock swinging between her legs with drops of Brittany’s excitement dripping off the end, before I realized what was happening, she was heading in my direction. I had nowhere to go and I knew the door was going to make a noise. I burst through those doors and ran, deciding they would probably hear me, but neither of them would be able to follow if I got out of there quick enough.

I was out of the gym in no time. The idea of that woman following me out of the gym with the massive cock was an incentive to get moving as quickly as possible. I was in my car and on my way home in no time and now I had a dilemma. There was no way I could put this in the university paper, but I couldn’t keep it in. At the same time, there was something else going on here. Brittany and this woman were not merely engaging in opportunist sex, this was a planned and potentially long running situation. There was a level of delinquency in the cheerleader locker room that I couldn’t have even imagined. I decided to find out exactly how delinquent and to make sure that everyone else knew. It became my crusade and presented me with excitement beyond my wildest fantasy.

The decision I made on that drive home would reveal to me the unimaginable extent of the Fenton University cheerleader squad’s delinquency.

 Thanks for reading.

Delinquent Cheerleader Confessions will continue. Misty, captain of the cheerleaders, is looking for scrub down after a heavy workout. When she sneaks into the boy’s locker-room wearing a towel, mules and a peppy smile, she gets more than she expects in the form of a big hunk of athlete.

Want and extract from Misty...ready and willing to serve.

Looking for more from Christie St Claire and the Delinquent Cheerleader Confessions? Look no further. Now available at Amazon US, Amazon UK, Smashwords, iTunes, Barnes and Noble.